The End of the Line
by Fiachra Ochiern
Summary: Chasing down the Yellow-Eyed Demon Azazel, as well as Seth (Wesson?), everything is coming to a head for John, Dean, and Sammy. Fourth in the Fraternity series.
1. Chapter 1

_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

* * *

John slows the Impala to a stop just behind Bobby's beat-up Toyota, but he still doesn't really see anything that's supposed to be Seth's "bunker." He tosses a glance at Dean in the front seat.

"You boys stay here for now," he says.

"Yes, sir." Dean fiddles with the brace on his wrist, covering up the sprain Azazel gave him.

John lays one arm against the long seat and looks at the back seat.

"You got that, Sam?"

Sam just nods and keeps his eyes on the kid's glove in his lap. He's been holding that stupid thing since they left Bobby's. John's starting to hate that glove, with its permanent ink scrawled into the side. With a sigh, John punches open the door and climbed out of the car to where Bobby is already heading for a set of steps that lead further down to a small dip in the flat horizon.

"This is the bunker?" John looks around at the door embedded into the ground, like a sod house.

"It's where Seth said it would be," says Bobby. He pulls a keychain out of his pocket — left behind with the rest of Seth's things when the demon had taken him — and slides a heavy key into the door with a click. The door swings open easily, and John goes in first, hand on his gun just in case.

At first, it's so dark inside that all John can make out is an iron railing in front of him as he steps onto a wooden floor. He senses Bobby behind him, and then lights flick on with a distinct snap and the crackle of electricity.

This place is a lot bigger than John had thought.

The iron railing in front of him is actually part of a large balcony with a staircase going down to what looks like a library. Even Bobby doesn't have this many books. Beyond the library, there's an open doorway that leads to something that looks like a kitchen. A really big kitchen.

Bobby whistles lowly and nearly drops the flashlight. John keeps his gun at his side, but he's still gaping around the building. There's an obvious hallway on the wall opposite of the kitchen, and he has no idea what's behind there because there's also a staircase that continues down to another level past the rows and rows of books in front of him. How much room does one man need?

"Whoa."

John jerks around at the soft voice because dammit he told his boys to stay in the car. Sammy doesn't look one bit apologetic as he cranes his head to stare at the ceiling.

"I told you to stay put." John frowns at Dean because Dean at least should know better and make sure he has a handle on his brother.

"Yeah, that worked out real well last time," Dean mutters through his teeth.

The kid flinches immediately after, but it's enough for John to remember his body hitting the wall of Bobby's panic room, crawling slowly up towards the ceiling without being able to breathe.

"We don't know if this place is safe yet," John says.

"No, it's okay, Dad," Sammy says immediately. "See, they got Enochian on the ceiling."

John lifts his eyes just enough to eye the roof above him. Sure enough, the tiles above him have dark symbols along the edges where the walls meet the ceiling.

"Balls," Bobby whispers. "I need a new dictionary."

"You know what they say, Sammy?"

After all, Sammy's the one who's been excited about Seth's nightly lessons. Sam raises the hand not holding the baseball glove and points at the far west corner.

"That one is 'eyes'," Sam says easily. "And ... _trian_ is shall be, like in the Bible. I think that one means shield, so it's shielding eyes? Or a shield against eyes? It keeps anything from seeing inside here."

"Kid knows what he's doing," Bobby says appreciatively.

John doesn't know if he's talking about Sammy or Seth.

"What's over there?" Sam points at the hallway John saw earlier.

John just shakes his head; it's not like he knows any better than Sam. He just got here five seconds before his boys.

"You boys want to go exploring?" Bobby asks.

Sammy practically lights up even though John shoots Bobby a glare. Bobby looks right back at John as if he's two seconds away from calling him an "idjit" again. John sighs and turns back to the two boys by the door.

"Stay with your brother," he tells Sammy, but both of them nod.

Dean still holds his body tense and his shoulders up. John doesn't know if he doesn't trust the bunker they've found or if he's just still upset about what happened at Bobby's. Either way, Dean doesn't need John to interfere.

The boys turn almost as one, and Sammy leads the way through the open door to the hallway. John turns deliberately to face Bobby. Bobby just shrugs.

"Keep them outa our hair while we see what we're gonna need here."

Okay, Bobby has a point there. John nods curtly and walks into the rows of books while Bobby wonders through the doors to the kitchen.

The bookshelves really do work like a library. John's half-surprised when he finds they're labeled. Thin white stickers have words like "Mythology," "Creatures," and "Angels" with hand-drawn arrows pointing down the length of the shelves. John taps his fingers against a sticker that says "Crossroads Demons/Deals" and keeps going. He finally finds an entire shelf labeled "Demonology" on the end, like a library would put up signs for fiction or non-fiction. He walks down between the shelves and wonders where to start. But then he catches the sight of a framed photograph lying at the end of the shelf, reaching out to take it.

The photo is the grainy kind of color of at least three decades ago. A group of men in suits, along with two in priests' robes, stand side by side like some kind of membership photo for a yearbook. John's eyes zero in on one particular man in the group, and he swallows hard.

"Looks like Seth cleaned up before he came up to my place," Bobby says, re-entering the library room. "But there's some food in the fridge."

John really doesn't have it in him to think about eating.

He steps carefully out from the shelves to find Bobby standing next to the large table, surveying the library like a kid on Christmas. He finally looks at John and frowns.

"What'd you find?" Bobby nods at the frame in John's hands.

"Nothing." John tosses the photo on the table, and it skids hard enough to crack the glass.

Bobby watches the photo slide over the table then snaps back to looking at John, but then Dean comes thundering into the room, looking like he's just run two flights of stairs.

"Dad, Dad!" Dean never gets this excited. "They have a shooting range. I'm not kidding."

His eyes are wide like even he has a hard time believing there's a shooting range indoors, underneath this whole thing. Funnily enough, the idea of a shooting range for a group of hunters is something John can get behind.

"Hey, I found the bedrooms." Sammy's voice comes from the hallway past the library. "I think I can have my own room!"

Dean blinks down from his wide-eyed awe suddenly and casts a wary glance at John.

"Were we staying?" he asks slowly. He looks like he's actually trying to ask if he has to talk to Sammy again about why they can't stay.

John just rolls his head, not really shaking his head yet because he doesn't actually know what's going to happen with this hunt and how it's going to end. Never mind what they're going to do once it's over. John brushes past Dean on his way to the hallway, with Bobby following at a trudge.

It's not that hard to find where Sammy is. The hallway leads into several different bedrooms, and it looks like a home instead of a research facility or even a hunting outpost. John really has no idea what to make of this place. Sam stands in the doorway of the bedroom closest to the library room, like he doesn't dare enter it.

"What's this?" John says, coming up to stand behind Sam.

Sammy just shrugs.

"I dunno."

He's a little subdued, like he found something he doesn't actually like. John walks into the room while Sammy stays where he is, one hand clinging to the door jam. The bedroom is pretty plain, even in terms of furniture: a bed, a nightstand with a lamp, and a short bookshelf that's mostly empty are the only things in the room. The bed is mostly made but still has the crinkled sheets of the unwashed. John passes over the nightstand — the only other thing there is an alarm clock — and goes for the bookcase. Right on the top is a stack of paperwork, all with either Social Services or the CPS stamp on the letterhead. John only recognizes some of the names because that stupid list is burned into his mind. "Max Miller" is the subject of a report for domestic violence that's at least five pages long. The kid is Sammy's age.

There's also a thick black leather book on top of the bookcase, and it isn't until John opens it and sees the tissue-thin paper pages that he realizes it's a Bible. It has the aged look of a family heirloom, but there's no writing or notes in it as John thumbs his way through it, letting the pages fall from his fingers. Then, the Bible flops open where a newspaper clipping is tucked in between the pages, somewhere in the middle of Job. John stares down at his own face, nearly twenty years younger. His wife, young and fresh, smiles back at him from the yellow piece of newspaper.

"There's two other beds." Bobby passes Sammy in the doorway and nudges the kid's hair a little. "Don't look like they've been slept in."

Sammy won't get his own room, is all that goes through John's mind at this. He turns enough so that he can see Bobby approaching him while Dean hangs back with Sammy by the door. John closes the Bible but keeps his hands over the worn cover.

"I want you boys to find all the books you can that have Enochian," he says, nodding at Dean and Sammy. "See if you can translate what's around the library ceiling."

"Okay." Sammy nods solemnly and turns immediately to get started on his important task.

Dean frowns at John. He's smart enough to know that translating symbols that are clearly meant as a barrier, to protect, isn't going to help them find Seth or the Demon.

From Bobby's frown as the boys leave, John guesses that the other man knows it, too. But at least Bobby nods the boys on their way before he steps into the bedroom with John and nods at the Bible in his hands.

"What'd you find?"

John rubs the palm of his hand over the leather, feeling the smoothness that age provides.

"Is Seth related to you?" he asks Bobby. Bobby frowns as if he doesn't understand the question, and John rolls his eyes and prods, "Is he family?"

Bobby's frown grows deeper.

"You know he isn't."

Right, John and Bobby have their start in hunting in common. Two dead wives between them. John hadn't really been expecting Seth to be related to Bobby anyway. Not anymore.

"What are you thinking?" Bobby eyes John half-sideways as he turns to take in the stark bedroom.

"Nothing," John says quickly. He puts the Bible down deliberately and steps back to look at the rest of the bookcase. "Don't know how you got him to call you sir."

Bobby chuckles behind John's back.

"Beats me. He came up to me that way; said he heard my reputation."

How does that make sense? If Seth had known—Why go to Bobby and not John? But John pushes that from his mind and forces a smirk on his face as he turns around again.

"You got a reputation, Singer?" He lets his eyes go wide enough to fake a bit of awe.

Bobby rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." He glowers at John and then waves one hand around the room. "You see anything in here we can use?"

John turns his head to look around the room, like a monastery cell if it wasn't for that lamp and clock. He knows his eyes linger when they reach the bookcase, but he can't help but think of the wedding announcement for John and Mary Winchester, clipped carefully from a newspaper and tucked away in a Bible.

"No," he says. "Let's go back to the books."

**o0O0o**

John flips a few pages in the Kansas atlas he's found. This place has practically everything, and it's hard to stay as cynical as he wants to in the face of a bunker dedicated to hunting. His finger drags down the list of cities in the index until he finds what he's looking for and goes back to the map.

"Stull is only about three hundred miles away," he says.

His finger almost brushes against the edges of Lawrence, but he ignores that. Bobby lifts his head, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose, and frowns above the thick demonology text he has one hand on.

"Have you seen the notes he kept on that place?" Bobby pushes the leather journal open between the two of them closer to John.

John turns the journal around so that he can read it. They've been working out of Seth's journal since the man disappeared, but there's just too much. It's not just the list of kids' names — Sammy's included — or the list of what looks like demon names; Seth has about a dozen lists in the back of his journal, none of them labeled. Trying to determine which are useful is starting to feel like trying to play "What Do These Things Have in Common?"

Stull Cemetery is near the bottom of a list that starts with Pestilence and Famine and includes Lucifer and Michael. John grinds his teeth together and tries to think of what to say to Bobby that won't sound crazy.

"Sounds like the End of Days," Bobby says before John can think of something that doesn't sound like it's from Revelations.

He hates that book.

"Look here." Bobby reaches over and drags his fingernails under the pages in the journal, flipping to something closer to the front of the journal. "There's a place in Wyoming, somewhere around Rawlins, that he marked with a devil's trap. A big one."

The map actually looks hand-drawn as opposed to cut out and pasted into the journal like John would have done. Waste of time, if Seth had ever bothered to ask John. And why would Seth bother to ask John? It's not like—John scratches his fingernails against his scalp and squeezes his eyes shut hard.

"Does it have anything to do with Azazel?" he finally asks.

"He's got a note here about railroads." Bobby lays a finger on the scrawled word in one corner of the page.

Railroads do not have anything to do with the scapegoat demon.

"Then forget it," John says.

He needs to stay focused. It's not like Seth did any organizing, for all the shelves and shelves of books are labeled. Couldn't the guy have just collected all the information he had on Azazel and actually put it somewhere together? It doesn't make any sense.

Bobby takes the journal back and drags his thumb over the edges of the pages until he's only about two-thirds of the way through it.

"What about this?" Bobby leans forward and spins the notebook in his hand around so John can read it. "St. Mary's Convent in Ilchester, Maaryland."

The name of the place is scrawled across the top of the page in black ink, and underlined. It's important to Seth, obviously, but John can't see anything that would tell him why it's important. He's starting to hate the way Seth takes notes. Underneath St. Mary's Convent is a mark with the name_ Lilith - #66_.

"That's a different name," John says, running a finger over Seth's notes. "The demon's name is Azazel. There wasn't anything in the text about a connection to Lilith."

Actually, the only name the demonology text lists along with Azazel is Lucifer's, and John still doesn't know what to make of that. Bobby huffs and pulls another paper from the stack between the two of them while John flips backwards through the notebook. There are other names by numbers, slowly counting down from the sixty-six he saw by Lilith's name. Some places skip a number or two, but none of them have anything to do with the demon that took Seth. And some are the same vague language that John's growing to hate. Why would a Righteous Man be in hell, anyway?

"Hey, Dad."

Sammy enters the work room — John is not calling it a library because that makes him feel like he's inside a mansion — with a large book cradled in both hands and one of his school notebooks balanced on top of that.

"Can I study in here?" Sammy eyes the table cautiously.

"Sure," John says then turns back to Seth's journal.

Sammy jogs up to the table and slams his books down before pulling out a chair on the opposite end of the table as John. He settles in, then, tucking his legs up underneath him to get a little more height above his book. John thinks something about boys playing at going to the office like their dads, and he swallows.

"Hey, I found his old cases," Bobby says.

Bobby holds up a handful of looseleaf papers and squints at them.

"Recent ones?" Seth had to be doing something in that time between Joliet and Bobby's house with the panic room idea.

"How should I know?" Bobby scowls at the papers. "He doesn't date anything."

John vindictively smiles at the thought that Bobby can't make heads or tails of Seth's organizing system either.

"Here's something he was looking into in Lawrence." Bobby pulls one paper out of the stack and holds it up to the light. "Looks like a haunting. Poltergeist, probably."

John has to work for a moment to pry his teeth open before he can talk.

"Lawrence, Kansas?"

"Yup," Bobby says as if it doesn't cost him anything. "Got an address here—"

John snatches the paper out of Bobby's hand, half-standing already. The paper looks like a police report, dated back in February, actually, so it's not too recent like Bobby thought. John's eyes travel across the paper, trying to take in all the words filling in the boxes like answers on a test. Then he stops short at the location.

It's his old address.

Well, his and Mary's. It's the house that burned to the ground with his wife inside. Why is Seth investigating there? There's nothing left.

"Dad?"

John jerks when Dean calls him and slams the paper face down onto the table. Dean walks up to the table and stands shoulder to shoulder with John. He holds up a road map book, the kind that has a state on each page, and braces it against his bandaged wrist.

"This place has a war room." Dean grins widely. "Really, it's like something out of James Bond, with the control board and—"

"Not now, Dean," John says.

His heart is beating somewhere down in his gut.

"No, it's just, I found a map down there I think Seth was working on," Dean says. He doesn't look down to where John has one hand covering the police report. "Look, these are all cattle mutilations in Nebraska and—" His fingers trace a line of red x's across the panhandle of the two-page state, dotted in between scarcer blue x's.

"Dean, shut up."

John can hardly get the necessary oxygen in his lungs, but he forces the words out. Dean jerks suddenly, one of his arms going backwards so that he's not actually brushing John, but he's quiet, and that's all he wants for now. Bobby's staring at him with a strange frown, and Sammy is on his knees staring down the length of the table instead of at his notebook. John taps his fingers on the upside down police report and eyes Bobby.

"We're going here."

And Bobby frowns even harder.

"What for?" His mouth twists in some sort of confused grimace. "The case is over. It was just a spirit."

"We're going," John says with gravel in his throat. He swallows hard because he can't clear his throat without sounding like something's wrong. "That sounds like Seth's last case; we should find out if it had anything to do with what's happening now."

It sounds like a legitimate reason, at least, and John glares at Bobby until he gets with the program. Except Bobby just keeps frowning back.

"Some of those demons can control the dead," John tosses out.

Bobby crosses his arms and huffs.

"I thought you said Azazel didn't have ties with the other demons."

John is going to strangle Bobby. But then Bobby pushes himself to stand and rubs at the back of his neck.

"Guess we're going to Lawrence," he says.

John nearly slugs him. He hadn't wanted his boys to know about this. Sammy may have been a baby, but Dean was four already when he carried—

John's heart moves from his gut to his throat. He turns away from Sam, who's glancing between the three at the other end of the table with wide eyes, but he can't look at Dean. He can feel the way Dean's entire body is tense, can see from the corner of his eye Dean's hands still on the map of Nebraska.

"Dad?"

And, _dammit_, his son's voice should never be that unsure of itself.

"Sam, Dean," John says, "you stay here."

He still can't really look at Dean, but he has to shoulder past Dean to actually get out from between the chair and the table. Bobby slips the paper out of his hands while John is focused on not looking at Dean.

"You want us to look into what happened in Nebraska?" Sam asks, still on his knees.

"I'm not interested in a werewolf eating cows," John snaps.

Sammy flinches — actually flinches — and sits back down in his chair. John pinches the bridge of his nose and starts to tell Bobby that it's time to go. Dean is standing right beside Bobby, reading the police report over Bobby's shoulder. Then, Dean glances up, and John doesn't even know what to do with the kid's face.

"Stay here," John orders one more time.

He doesn't want Dean anywhere near that cursed ground.

* * *

A/N: I really am late with the start of this, and I apologize, but I've been working hard on the story itself and trying to get it right, as it will likely be the finale of the Fraternity series. Expect a few bad things. Okay, let's be honest, we're dealing with Supernatural; expect a lot of bad things. Hopefully, I bring you all to a satisfying end.

Sincerely,

Fia


	2. Chapter 2

_Ergo draco maledicte_ _et omnis legio diabolica_ _adjuramus te._ _Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_ _eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._

* * *

John's fists grow tighter on the steering wheel the longer they're on the road. Bobby hasn't said one word since they got into his truck and headed east. It could be because John refused to let Bobby drive his own truck, but John knows that Bobby still disagrees with him about where they're supposed to be going and he's been expecting the other man to say something the whole time they've been driving.

"What's eating your undies?"

Although, he's not really expecting that.

"What?" John turns enough to frown at Bobby from the corner of his eye.

"You've been twitchy since we got to Seth's place," Bobby humphs from the passenger seat and drums his fingers against the bottom of the window.

John grinds his teeth together and watches the road, which is a pitiful effort at distracting himself because the highway is straight and long in front of him with fields on either side of him. Half-formed thoughts spring up in his brain, but it's easy to keep whatever words he wants behind his teeth, like a trap.

"We'll get 'im back," Bobby says.

"It's not that," John says immediately.

He feels Bobby's eyes on him in the sharpness of focused attention, but John shuts his mouth again. He doesn't want to say that he's trying not to think of the end of the hunt and if they actually will get Seth back. Or about how much John actually wants that to happen.

"What, then?" And Bobby's back to snapping at him.

John shifts his grip on the steering wheel to a point where the wheel isn't so heated beneath his palms. His hands feel sweaty against the wheel, but he doesn't move them again.

"You saw that photo in the work room?" It's better than telling him about the newspaper clip in Seth's Bible.

"The one you threw across the table, you mean."

John can hear Bobby rolling his eyes even without looking over to confirm. It's something about the pressure in the truck and just Bobby's tone of voice. He ignores the whatever-it-is in Bobby's voice that sounds like a dad reprimanding his kid for being careless.

"What was it? Gentlemen's Club?" Bobby presses when John doesn't continue.

"The Men of Letters." He hates how that sounds out of his own mouth. Like it's actually supposed to be a gentlemen's club instead of a group of hunters. "My dad was in there."

"No kiddin'?"

"He left me and my mom," John spits out. Bobby's not allowed so sound so callous when John's the one that had to live without a dad.

The air in the truck feels heavy, pressing down on John's head and into his ears like water would in a swimming pool.

"You didn't know he was here?" Bobby asks.

John just shakes his head sharply.

"He left when I was four. Never came back."

He feels better with his teeth clenched together like trap doors. More in control of himself. Bobby shakes his head and stares out

"You're getting quite a legacy, Winchester."

Whoever said it's a legacy that he wants? A dead father who left to be part of a secret hunting club and—

"So he died with the rest of the Men of Letters," Bobby says.

"How d'you figure?"

"Seth said he's the only one left."

And if Seth's already dead or … gone? What happens to the Men of Letters then? John doesn't want to live in that underground mansion, like a converted tomb. But he isn't thinking about that yet. Just get to Lawrence, and do something. Figure out what Seth's been doing this whole time, and how much he knows about John. And if Seth has been following John's life from his wedding, then why didn't he show up before this? Like during the fire. Seth knows about demons and what they want. Why would he stay away?

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"Maybe he didn't want his family involved in hunting," Bobby says.

Then why did he come to help us anyway, John wants to ask. But Bobby isn't talking about the same thing John is.

"Look how that turned out," he says instead.

Bobby just nods slowly as if he knows exactly what John means.

He has no idea.

**o0O0o**

John practically drags his feet up the front steps of the house. He doesn't want to do this. There are no words to describe how much John doesn't want to do this. The house doesn't even look the same. It's been rebuilt, an entirely new color. And there's a wrap-around porch on two sides of the new house. Mary always talked about wanting a porch with a swing.

At least this house doesn't have a swing.

John knocks on the door briskly and waits. He's glad Bobby isn't here for this. They agreed to divide up their time since they're on something of a tight schedule, and John sent Bobby over to the police station to do some digging. He doesn't want an audience for this particular interview. The door opens and a woman about his own age cautiously peeks out.

"Yes?" She has both hands on the door, ready to slam it in his face.

"Mrs. Arendt?" John's hand dives into his pocket, and he flips out a business card with practiced ease. "I'm John Winchester. I work with Seth Wesson."

The card he holds out is a quick fix. He actually had to force the thing into a typewriter to add his name below Seth's.

"With Seth?" Mrs. Arendt lets the door fall open a little more as she steps forward to take the card like it's the key to getting into her house.

"Just started, actually." It's not a lie. "He wanted me to stop by here and just check up on you. See how you were doing."

That seems to be the clincher, since Mrs. Arendt looks up from the card to smile at him.

"Of course. Come in." She steps aside to hold the door open for him.

"Let me get you some coffee," Mrs. Arendt says as soon as the door is shut. "My husband should be home any minute. He just went to pick our girls up from school."

John glances at the clock on the living room wall, and yeah, it is about the end of the school day. Kids might have summer school or something. He knows there are some schools that have a really long school year, about halfway through June. But then he gets distracted by the family pictures on the wall. The Arendts look like a perfectly normal family; the two girls are a little younger than Dean and Sammy. The oldest looks maybe twelve, thirteen.

"You didn't have to come all this way," Mrs. Arendt calls over her shoulder from the kitchen. "We haven't been having any other problems." She suddenly sticks her head back into the living room, a worried look all over her face. "Unless you know of something—"

"No, nothing," John says hurriedly. "I just wanted to stop by. Make sure you—"

He waves a hand around the room since he doesn't really know how he's supposed to end that sentence.

"Oh, yes." Mrs. Arendt nods anyway, ducking back into the kitchen to finish the coffee. "We've been wonderful ever since Seth came by for the house. We've even been salting the windows and doors like he said."

She walks back into the living room with a mug in each hand.

"Really?"

John doesn't like telling the people he meets on a case about the supernatural world or the hunting business, mostly for his own anonymity. He takes the mug of coffee and sits in the only chair available, a big, fat recliner that looks like it should belong to a grandpa.

"Yes." Mrs. Arendt nods eagerly as she takes the edge of the couch between stacks of folded laundry. "I mean, it feels a little silly, but like he said, it's just like a different kind of security system for burglars."

Honestly, John has never in his life thought about explaining salt barriers like alarm systems. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a flake this woman is. But the front door opens before he can find something to say next.

A girl definitely younger than ten races upstairs with heavy shoes while the man John recognizes from the family photos on the wall enters the living room.

"Hi, honey," Mr. Arendt says with a glance at John. A pre-teen girl in ridiculous bright pink pants is hanging her backpack up in the small closet behind her dad.

"Hey, this is John Winchester," Mrs. Arendt says.

"I work with Seth Wesson." John starts to fish out another business card from his pocket. "Police consultant on occultism and—"

"Oh, right, right." The man nods away the rest of John's fake credentials, recited from Seth's card.

"I'm going to Lindsay's, Mom," the girl with the pink pants yells.

"Change out of your school clothes first!" Mrs. Arendt calls right back.

The girl trudges up the stairs while also managing to roll her eyes so hard that she has to hang on to the railing for balance. John is suddenly, briefly thankful that he has sons instead of daughters.

The almost-teenage girl thunders back down the stairs and nearly flies out the front door all while Mr. Arendt pours himself a cup of coffee and comes back into the living room, standing near the arm of the couch.

"Is there anything wrong?" Mr. Arendt has his shoulders up already, expecting some message of doom from John.

"No, I just stopped by to follow up," he says quickly. He doesn't need the guy getting defensive on him. "Your wife said you've been putting up salt barriers."

"Yeah." Mr. Arendt nods slowly. "Seemed like the thing to do, with what Seth said."

And how do these people get off calling him just Seth when Seth is supposed to be an official police consultant? Even John had called him nothing but Wesson at first.

Not the point.

"Did Seth do anything to the house before he left?"

"No," says Mr. Arendt. "He said he didn't need to, since it was just those two spirits."

Wait, what?

"Two spirits?"

Mr. Arendt eyes John suspiciously.

"Yeah," he says, "you didn't know?"

"He just started." His wife leans over towards him as if that's going to keep John from overhearing her loud whisper. But then she turns back to John as if nothing's been said. "The house had two spirits in here before we even moved in. That was what was causing all the hauntings; one spirit was keeping the other from, y'know, passing on?"

John's never heard of a case like this. He's heard horror stories about more than one ghost or poltergeist in a house, but they're usually all unfriendly spirits collected in a single space.

"They were fighting?" John says.

"Yes. It was tragic." Mrs. Arendt nods solemnly. "I guess the one trapped here was the spirit of the woman who had died in the old house."

John's heart stops beating.

"A house fire, before they rebuilt it." Mrs. Arendt looks down into her coffee. "Sounds just horrible."

"Mmng."

John doesn't recognize the sound that comes out of him. His throat is closed up and if he didn't know better he'd be worried that another demon has gotten a hold of him, squeezing his chest until it's a mess of broken ribs and squished organs.

"Did …" He stops to clear his throat. "Did Seth say … what happened to the trapped spirit?"

"She moved on," Mr. Arendt says blandly. "Went into the light. Whatever it's called." One of his hands flaps back and forth beside his head.

John's hand tightens around the coffee mug, he wants to punch the man so bad. His wife—Mary was here, has been trapped here for years.

"I think he really felt for her," Mrs. Arendt says. "He looked so sad when he came back out."

Dammit, how long had Seth known? How did he even find out? John's clothes feel itchy, and his skin is even worse, like it's too tight for his body.

"Right." He stands abruptly and sets the still-full coffee mug on the side table. "Well, if you ever have any other problems—"

"Of course." Mrs. Arendt stands, too, smiling at him. "We appreciate your stopping by, Mr. Winchester."

Sure they do. That's why Mr. Arendt is smiling tightly at him while his eyes follow John all the way out the door. That's fine. John just needs to get out. He needs to leave. John tumbles down the front steps of the porch and lands on the sidewalk in front of the house that still looks wrong to him, puts his head between his knees, and breathes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_ _omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._ _Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_ _contremisce et effuge, invocato a_ _nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_ _quem inferi tremunt._

* * *

It takes John he-doesn't-know-how-long to catch his breath again, and he's still bent over his own knees when a deep engine rumbles to a stop by the curb. John straightens and sees Bobby vault out the door of his beat-up truck and jog up onto the sidewalk. At first, John fears Bobby's found something worth panicking about, but then Bobby grasps John's elbow so tight that the nerves in his arm tingle.

"You okay?" Bobby demands. "John—"

"What'd you find?" John cuts him off.

Bobby glares at him, and so help him, if he starts in again on John's health or something, John is going to punch him in the throat. But Bobby leans back and lets John shrug his hand off.

"Not much," says Bobby. "The police chief said Seth's helped them out on a case or two over the last six months. One sounded like a skinwalker, and the other was this burglary here."

He nods toward the house with the wrap-around porch. John's throat burns, and he doesn't know if he wants to cry or puke.

"It wasn't a burglary." The heat spreads to his hands, and John has to clench them tightly.

"Spirit?" Bobby studies the house a little more closely now, as if he'll be able to see the scars of fire on the new house.

"Mary!" John shouts. "He exorcised my wife!"

Bobby blinks and then stares at John hard. John digs his fingernails into his palms and swallows hard. He hadn't planned on saying that. Bobby knows that something supernatural killed Mary, but he's never asked for details. Now, Bobby turns his head slowly from John to the perfectly perfect house.

"She was here?"

The heat flees John's hands and leaves them cold. Mary had been here. He could have—

Before the thought even fully forms in John's mind, he hears a familiar thrum of an engine. Down the street, a black 1967 Impala roars around a corner and flies past the neat little houses.

"What the hell?" He has to be seeing things. Or else, someone in Lawrence must have the same car as him, because that can't be who he thinks it is.

But the black car pulls to a ragged stop right behind Bobby's truck, and Deans jumps out of the driver's seat.

"Dad!" Dean slams the door shut behind him and nearly trips his way up to the curb.

"I told you to stay in the bunker," John spits as Sam bolts out of the passenger door. He doesn't even bother closing it, just swings around the frame and lets the door fall without really latching.

Sammy hefts the atlas from the work table over his hand and waves it at John.

"Dad, you have to see this." Somehow Sammy reaches John first and starts thumbing through the pages of the oversized atlas. "Look." He finally tears the book open to the two-page spread that is Wyoming. "Seth was following cattle mutilations from Nebraska into Wyoming."

Sammy slashes a finger quickly over a crooked line of red x's that traveled from the border into the southeast part of the state, just like Sammy says.

"Sam—" John tries.

"It's not a plague!" Sammy's a second away from stomping his foot and throwing a tantrum. "They're demonic omens."

Well, that gets John's attention. He looks at the atlas a second time, trying to discern meaning from his son's marks.

"And the railroads aren't railroads," Sam says hurriedly. "Well, they are, but look." His finger circles a thin red line. "It's a devil's trap."

John reaches out and takes the atlas slowly. Traced over the thin and thick lines of roads and highways is the same giant devil's trap that John had seen hand-drawn in Seth's journal. Sammy's outlined the whole thing in red pen.

"The rails are straight iron," Dean says. "It's a giant trap to keep demons in."

"Or out," says Bobby suddenly. He leans over John's shoulder to look at the map. "There's a cemetery around there. We saw it when we were going through Seth's journal."

John frowns at the map then glares back at Dean.

"You couldn't call to tell me this?" He has a phone, after all, and he doesn't really want his boys here. He doesn't even know how much Dean remembers about the house they're still standing in front of.

"We tried," Dean grunts. "Your phone was off."

John digs in his pocket and flips out his phone. The battery's dead, and he realizes he hasn't actually plugged the thing in since Seth disappeared. He shoves it back into his pocket viciously.

"So what's there?" The Wyoming map dangles from his hand.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester."

There is something very wrong with that tone. John turns with a frown, sees Mr. Arendt standing at the top of the stairs on his porch, surveying the tiny group of hunters on the sidewalk. Suddenly, John really wants his boys out of there.

"Yeah, sorry, I really have to get going." John shoves the map into Bobby's chest.

If Arendt still believes he's Seth's partner, it's going to look weird to be dragging two boys with him when he's supposedly investigating supernatural crimes and hauntings. John makes a short motion with his hand to one side. Dean, thank God Dean gets the message and starts backing up towards the car again. But Sammy just stays there, stock still and glancing at both the man on the porch and the house behind him.

"Is this your family?" Arendt walks casually down the porch steps. "So sweet."

Something slick and sly drops with Arendt's words, and John shoots a glare at Dean to make him get back in the car and go. Dean jerks forward, but Arendt reaches Sam first.

"You must be Sammy," he says holding out a hand for Sammy to shake.

John's stomach suddenly goes missing. He never told the Arendts his sons' names. Arendt smiles widely.

"My Daddy would be so pleased to have the chance to talk with you."

Standing in front of Sammy, Arendt blinks, and his eyes bleed into solid black. John snatches the gun from under his jacket at the same time Arendt makes a move like a spider pouncing and yanks Sammy to his front. Arendt hunches so that he's mostly behind Sammy and wraps one hand around Sammy's neck.

"Bastard," Bobby growls from John's side. He doesn't even have a gun.

"Bitch, actually," says Arendt with a toothy grin.

Wrong gender, John thinks, and then has a moment to think about a demon calling for her Daddy. He pulls the hammer back on the gun.

"Let him go, Megaera."

Arendt's face turns toward John and smiles like it's trying to flirt. The muscles in John's back spasm before he sets his spine straight and glares right back at the demon.

"Oh, look at how smart you are," she says like she's actually proud of John.

"Dad?"

Sammy's voice wavers, comes out high and scared. Megaera pulls out a kitchen knife from her pocket and presses the edge delicately to Sammy's throat with a little tsk-ing sound. Dean tenses where he's already frozen on the sidewalk.

"Sammy, don't move," he whispers.

Dean's arms are stretched out on either side of him, but he doesn't have a weapon. But John sees the way Dean glances to the Impala ever so often, and he's willing to bet Dean still knows where every single gun in the trunk is. Right now, there's no way Dean can get to the car and grab a gun without the demon noticing. John straightens and takes one threatening step forward, his gun leading the way.

"My family is off limits!" he yells.

Arendt/Megaera's black eyes snap immediately to John, and he can breathe a little bit better.

"Bit late for that don't you think?" Megaera says, half of his mouth turned up like the demon's trying to laugh. "You just let him walk right into our arms."

Well, breathing was nice while it lasted.

"Did you even know what we had planned for him?" Megaera says. "How much we had to make him bleed?"

John's eyes flicker down to Sammy, but Sammy's not bleeding. Not yet.

"What the hell did you do to Seth?" Bobby snaps, jerking forward like he doesn't actually remember the knife at Sammy's throat. John has to plant his foot in front of Bobby to stop him from bolting forward. And, _oh God_, Megaera meant Seth walking into Azazel's arms, not Sammy into Megaera's.

Megaera grins, and John tells the knot in his stomach that Dean's getting a gun from the car.

"He must have been through some kind of Hell because he's not quite broken yet," Megaera says. "You Winchesters are almost as tenacious as Hellhounds, you know that? Father would just like a little incentive." Her hand tightens around Sammy's neck as the knife starts breaking skin. "Besides, it isn't like you'll miss him, right?"

The hand around Sammy's throat slides slowly up the side of his face, like a caress, until it's buried in his shaggy hair. And all the while, Sammy inches his head away, turning like he doesn't want the demon touching him but doesn't know how to get away either. His eyes are wide with peeled back eyelids, and it needs to stop. John needs to stop this.

"You'll be so much better with us, Sammy," Meg whispers. "Your dad doesn't even know how close you got to us."

God, what has Sammy been doing? No, the demon must be talking about Azazel in the panic room. It hasn't shown its ugly face since then, so there's no way Sammy has been anywhere near Azazel or this bitch of a daughter.

"You figured it out when no one else did, and your dad didn't even listen to you," says Meg.

Sammy's eyes flash to John, and John can practically hear Sammy pleading for him to do something. Then, Megaera lifts the knife and Sammy jerks away. Before John can do anything, Bobby comes rushing past him with an angry yell. He raises his fist and throws something like he would a hand grenade. The little glass container shines in the air before it crashes right into Arendt's face. John sees Dean out of the corner of his eye and charges along with Bobby, reaching out one hand for his son just as Dean's gun goes off. Meg's head whips to one side, and John can see the gaping hole in the side of the man's head. Even if Bobby manages to spit out an exorcism, there's no way Mr. Arendt is surviving his possession.

In the next second, Arendt's face turns back, eyes black and temple bleeding, and Meg looks at John. John has the moment it takes him to think that he should have led with his gun instead of an open hand before Meg just moves. She pulls Sammy backwards so hard that John hears a snap right before Sammy cries out. Then, Meg's arm flicks in the peripheral of John's vision, and his left thigh suddenly burns. He can't hold his own weight anymore and collapses onto the sidewalk with a hiss.

"Sammy!" Dean screams.

"Uh-uh."

John forces his head up, sees the kitchen knife buried almost hilt-deep in his thigh, and then sees Sammy on the ground in front of Meg's feet. He's cradling his left arm, and his skin is pale. Dean still has a gun aimed at Meg's head, for all the good it does. Bobby is on his back on the lawn behind Meg, his eyes closed like he's been knocked out.

Then, Meg lifts one hand stretched out toward Dean, and John doesn't know what she's going to do. His heart hammers desperately, gives him the strength to rise on his right knee and plant his left hand behind him. It makes his body twist, and John can feel every inch of the knife in his leg, but he still raises his gun and fires. The moment the gun goes off turns into a blur as Meg's eyes flash black again and Dean suddenly jerks to one side. A smear of red blooms across Dean's arm, and he drops the gun to the sidewalk with a clatter. John's arm shakes as he falls backwards.

"Oh, you boys are pathetic," Meg laughs with the voice of Arendt.

"Dean," Sammy breathes.

John grits his teeth and tries to push himself at least to his elbows so he can see.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Meg croons.

Arendt's face is close to Sammy's with their cheeks pressed together. John tries to flip over and reach for his gun. He knows Meg will see his movements, but he has to do something.

"Daddy's gonna love playing with you," the demon says softly.

John falls onto his back again, his head lifted just enough to aim as he steadies the gun with both hands. But then Meg's eyes turn black, and they look like they're moving. Like the face has smoke for pupils. A terrible pressure slams onto John's chest and knocks all the air out of his lungs. His head slams back against the concrete hard enough to make him black out. He blinks his eyes open without knowing immediately if he actually passed out or not.

A truck engine rumbles close to his ear, and John can only turn his head to see Bobby's truck peel away from the curb with Meg in the driver's seat. Bobby still lay face down on the grass just past the edge of the sidewalk, and Dean sits slumped against the Impala with one hand clamped tightly over his right arm, near his shoulder. John tries to sit up, but he still doesn't have quite enough oxygen.

"Oh my god! What happened?!"

Mrs. Arendt comes screeching out of the house and flying down the sidewalk that leads up to that stupid porch. John keeps a hard grip on his gun, just in case, and doesn't close his eyes even when he starts seeing stars.

"Are you alright?" Mrs. Arendt hovers over John, not kneeling down to check on him but still holding her hands out over him like she's going to catch him if he tries to stand.

John looks down at the knife in his leg and uses his free hand to press gingerly at the muscle. It hurts like hell.

"Oh, god," Mrs. Arendt breathes shakily. "I'll call an ambulance."

John wants to say he doesn't need an ambulance, but Bobby's still unconscious, and he only _might_ be able to remove the long knife and stitch his leg up with Dean's help. But Dean hasn't lost the dazed look in his eyes, even with one hand over the bullet wound. Doesn't help that Dean's face is wet with tears. It has to be because of the concussion. Dean doesn't cry over bullet wounds.

**o0O0o**

John grits his teeth and looks away. He can't actually feel the needle passing through his skin thanks to anesthesia, but he's learned that it's not really a good thing to watch your own insides dancing around on the outside of your skin. His eyes land on Dean, who waits stiff and unmoving by the curtain inside the trauma ward. He's holding his left hand straight by his side, as if that's going to keep the doctors from seeing the brace on his wrist in addition to the bandage they've already put on the gunshot graze on his right arm. John's throat burns all the way down to his heart, and he tears his gaze away from his son to watch the doctor again.

"Alright," the man in the white coat finally says. "That should take care of it. I've put some surgical glue on the wound as well. Someone will be right around to transfer you up to inpatient—"

"I want to check myself out," John says before the doctor can get too far into his plans.

The doctor's eyebrows pull down so far John can actually read the "v" in between the man's eyes.

"With this severe a wound, we'd like to keep you overnight, just for observation." The man's tone is mild, clearly stating that this shouldn't be a big deal for John. "And then there's aftercare, and we need to get you some crutches."

"I've got some at home," John lies easily. "It's not my first time on the job."

Since Mrs. Arendt had called the ambulance herself, they had to make up something relatively believable. John won't admit that Seth's reputation has helped him, because the hospital has no idea who Seth Wesson is. But they do accept that John is a private detective, following up an old case.

The doctor stares at him for a moment more and then purses his lips, displeased.

"I'll get you the paperwork for a check-out Against Medical Advice." He emphasizes the last few words so that even John can hear the capitalization. But he doesn't say anything to call the doctor back as he brushes past Dean and leaves the curtain shoved to one side.

Dean hunches his shoulders over his chest like he's trying to hide with nowhere to go. That burn in John's throat is back, and his stomach feels heavy. He must be reacting to the anesthesia.

"What the hell were you thinking?" John growls through gritted teeth.

Dean's head snaps up.

"Dad—"

"You brought your brother right to a _demon_."

It doesn't even matter that Megaera and not Azazel is the one who has Sammy now. Sammy is with a demon who _wants_ him for some reason, and John is sitting in a hospital with his leg torn up so bad he's not sure he'll be able to walk to the car without popping the wound open again and bleeding all over his jeans.

"He needed to come," says Dean. "As soon as he figured out the devil's trap thing, he had to get to you. He wouldn't even let me call down to the police station for Bobby. He was desperate, Dad, like he knew something was wrong with it."

_Visions, telekinesis, electrocution, mind control._ God, what was going on with his boy?

"You let her take Sammy."

"Alright, stop."

John looks up at the sudden gruff voice and sees Bobby stepping into the space by John's bed, pulling the curtain shut behind him.

"You have twenty stitches in your leg." Bobby glares at John. "Don't push it, Winchester."

John wants to say something about the butterfly bandage above Bobby's right eye, holding his scalp together. But Bobby has the advantage of recovering consciousness before the ambulance pulled up, so he got treated on-scene and then left to drive the Impala to the hospital.

John rolls his eyes instead because it makes him feel better. It also makes him slightly dizzy, but that passes once John blinks for a couple seconds.

"She said Sammy got close to Azazel." Bobby turns to Dean abruptly. "What were you doing in the bunker?"

John straightens to pay attention to this part, but Dean just shrugs helplessly.

"Nothing," he says. "He wanted to study Seth's maps, and then he found out that cattle mutilations are demonic omens, so I called the DNR in Nebraska and found out about the farmers having trouble with wildlife."

Dean finishes in one deep breath, like he didn't dare breath while he was actually talking.

"Demonic omens?" Bobby repeats. "So, Seth was tracking where Azazel was?"

Something sharp underlies Bobby's tone, and John focuses through the pain meds.

"But they're all old, and then, we found out there were more in Wyoming." Dean flips one hand through the air, gesturing at a map that's not there. "That's when Sammy found out what the railroads are."

"Sammy found it?" John had known that. Dean said that when they first pulled up, but John had been more mad than anything.

The doctor comes back and cuts off the conversation there, and John stays mostly silent and gruff as he signs the discharge papers on his own, while Bobby chases Dean out to the car. The doctor foists John on a nurse with a wheelchair, and the only reason John doesn't protest is because he needs to out of here as soon as possible. If he's right, Sammy hasn't been close to Azazel physically. Meg was talking about the investigation Sammy and Dean were working on instead. Sammy was the closest to where Azazel actually is.

How the demons know this is a question that sets the hairs on John's arms on end.

Bobby already has the Impala pulled up by the hospital's front door when John exists, and Dean helps John hop his way to the passenger door and slide in. Bobby nearly peels out of the parking lot and back on the road while Dean pulls out the U.S. atlas from Seth's workroom.

On the two-page spread of Wyoming, John traces around the thin red lines that lay over the symbols for railroads. The red symbol of the devil's trap covers a large part of the southeastern corner of the state. Red 'x's are scribbled in the state all around the outside of the circle.

"The trap is to keep demons out of here," Dean says as he leans over the front seat to hover over the map in his dad's hands. "Look, he's been trying to get into here."

John brushes Dean's hand out of the way so he can peer at the map more closely. There are some small cities along the perimeter of the circle, but the inside looks desolate.

"What's in the center?" he asks.

Bobby glances over at the map from the wheel of the Impala.

"Whatever it is, Azazel needs a human to get in there."

And now Azazel has Sammy.

John tosses the atlas back towards Dean in the back seat.

"Let's go," he orders.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._ _Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire_ _te rogamus, audi nos._ _Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,_ _te rogamus, audi nos._

* * *

They drive into the night, and it's only because Bobby didn't bring the Colt to Lawrence that they make the stop at the bunker at all; just long enough for Dean to run in and grab the gun that will supposedly end this whole thing. Dean keeps an eye on the atlas the entire way, tracking their progress in centimeters.

"We just crossed the devil's circle," Dean says from the back seat.

John looks out the window and expects to see a change, some sign that they were in new territory now. There should be some physical sign of what they were going through. The Impala's tires give a thump as they cross an old railroad bed, covered in hard-packed dirt from the gravel road, and that's it. John keeps his compass out, because there are no landmarks anymore. The area's deserted, even in the high beams of the Impala, so John has to measure longitudes before he determines they should be seeing something.

"There." John points, nearly dropping his compass.

It's the only rise in the horizon for miles in front of the mountains, which makes it the perfect place for a cemetery. John can see the twisted iron fence surrounding it as Bobby creeps the Impala towards it and finally through the two pillars that hold up a sign that's beyond faded. Bobby parks just inside the gate on what's left of the drive and leaves the car running. Dean slides across the seat and launches himself out of the car while John shuffles the Colt over to his left hand so that his right can support his weight as he pulls himself up to stand, using the passenger door as a crutch.

The cemetery looks old, like the kind seen on history and ghost town tours. John can't even read the tombstones in the light of the Impala's headlights. All the stones are yellow and broken with age, and the place is quiet. It's nearly three in the morning, and something in the back of John's head whispers, _Witching hour_.

"Sammy!"

John's head snaps to one side, but Dean's already running to one end of the cemetery, past the largest-by-far tombstone that looks more like a mausoleum. John stumbles away from the car because that's Sammy, that's Sammy propped on the ground, his back against the cold iron, and blood streaming down his nose and chin.

Bobby gets his shoulder under John's arm, and John wants to snap at him, but he can't walk on his own, and he has to get to Sammy. Together, they manage a weird three-legged run to the edge of the cemetery.

"Sammy." Dean pats at Sammy's cheeks while the kid's head rolls limply on his shoulders. "Sammy, c'mon, man."

It's worse than John first thought. Sammy's left arm has a large bruise already turning brown and black. The cut on his throat is bleeding sluggishly — John is going to kill Megaera — and there's a pretty big knot on the side of his head where the skin is scraped open. John can't get down to Sammy's level without letting go of Bobby's shoulders, and then he won't be able to get back up on his own if the demon comes. He has to let Dean be the one to crouch down in front of Sammy.

"Sammy, don't you do this to me," Dean mutters so quietly John thinks he might be praying.

Sammy moans, and John suddenly loves that sound more than the Impala's engine.

With his face still cradled between Dean's palms, Sammy blinks his eyes open and stares up blearily.

"De'?"

John is going to have flashbacks of Sammy learning how to talk if this keeps up. But then Sammy flails in his place, and John sees the manacle on Sammy's wrist and the long chain threaded in between the rods of the fence around the cemetery. The chain keeps Sammy's hand pinned down, but his free hand flops around until he clutches at Dean's braced wrist.

"Sammy?" Dean presses forward and puts himself right in Sammy's face so the kid doesn't have to look so far. "That's it, kiddo. C'mon."

"Dean, 's'not him," Sammy breathes.

"Who's not what?"

Dean needs to stop talking. John thinks Sammy must have a concussion or something, and Dean needs to get to checking over his brother, since John can't.

"Seth," says Sammy. "It's not Seth."

John blinks, one hand tightening around the handful of Bobby's jacket.

John doesn't know what to call the thump of his heart as it pounds against the back of his ribs. He can't feel his hands for some reason.

"He's here?"

Sammy tries to shake his head, but his chin just ends up falling to one side. He manages to lift his eyes to John, half-lidded and half-drugged.

"No. It's me," he says. "Dad, it's me."

_What the hell does that mean?_ John has sudden, horrifying visions of shapeshifters and demons changing their faces and not being able to tell which Sammy is really Sammy.

"It's not often I can facilitate a family reunion."

John turns his head at the familiar voice, but Bobby is already spinning around and half-dragging John's arm with him. He lets go of John's shoulders to raise the shotgun, but then Bobby freezes with the weapon only half up. Seth stands in the middle of the cemetery in his army jacket, blood decorating the left sleeve in red streaks.

"Seth!" Dean screams from the ground.

Seth smiles with too many teeth, and his eyes turn yellow.

"Azazel." John cocks the Colt as he raises it, focusing only the Yellow Eyes. "What did you do to my son?"

Azazel-Seth rolls his head back on his shoulders and chuckles, relishing in the deep amusement that comes from Seth's throat.

"Oh, you have no idea, do you?" He grins at John. "I was surprised myself to realize whose meat suit I was wearing." He rubs his fingers together as if to test the give of the skin.

"Get out of him, bastard," yells Dean. "He has a tat."

Dean has a point, and John wonders if Knights of Hell are immune to the anti-possession tattoo that John spent so much time learning from Seth.

Azazel pulls the collar of Seth's T-shirt down to reveal a perfect circle of skin missing right over Seth's heart. Where his tattoo once was, John sees gooey, pink viscera that still bleeds in trickles of red down his chest.

"Easily taken care of," says Azazel. He releases his grip and lets the shirt fall back into place. "You know, I should have guessed it right away. Seth, third son of Adam and Eve. The only son that lived. I guess he had enough of Cain and Abel."

John has no idea what Azazel is talking about. Doesn't want to, really. But he knows how to kill the Demon, now.

"Get out of him, or I'll shoot you straight back to Hell." John lines the sight of the old revolver up with the center of Azazel-Seth's forehead.

"No!" Sammy cries, his voice high and desperate. "Dad, don't!"

God_dammit_, he doesn't _want_ to. How can Sammy think John _wants_ to shoot Seth? He still has to ask the man why he has a baseball glove with John's name on it.

But then Seth convulses. Literally, his arms jerk inward as his back snaps forward so hard, John thinks Azazel is trying to snap Seth's spine from inside his body. Seth flails forward and lands heavily on his knees as his arm comes forward, but not in time for his hands to catch him. Seth stays on his elbows and knees and cries out painfully. John has no idea what to do.

Then, Seth looks up, and his eyes are their regular brown again.

"Shoot me," he says, looking right at John.

Inversely, John lowers his gun. Seth is bleeding from a new crack in his lip. John thinks he's bitten through the skin with whatever trick he just pulled.

"Please, shoot me," Seth says. "You can kill it. Please."

He sounds like a POW begging for a clean death. The hairs on John's arms stand up, and he nearly shivers in the summer night.

"Dad," Dean whispers behind him.

Seth is begging for death, and his sons are begging for life, and John doesn't know who to listen to. Nothing should be above his sons, he knows that. But—

Suddenly, Seth's body jerks again, his spine bends backwards like something out of a horror flick. Seth screams, and Bobby flinches behind his shotgun. John can't move. Seth straightens so that he's on his knees in the cemetery. Azazel's yellow eyes look out from Seth's face again.

"Stubborn little soul," Azazel scoffs then picks himself up from the ground.

"He's stronger than you," Dean spits.

Azazel glares at a point just to John's right, and it gives John the strength he needs to raise the Colt again.

"He's practiced, that's all." Azazel frowns at Dean then waves his fingers up near Seth's temple. "It's a mess in this kid's head. I think Lucifer broke him too often."

John's hands shakes; he can't stop himself. Lucifer is supposed to be a fairy tale. The Devil doesn't exist like the church says he does. But Seth has mentioned Lucifer before, in a small kitchen with a shudder like he knows something John doesn't.

"I mean, I knew Winchester blood was strong, but the things he went through in Hell." Azazel shakes his head slowly, disapprovingly, while he stroked his fingers across Seth's chest. "You would be so proud of him, Johnny."

John ducks behind the gun again, but his finger doesn't pull the trigger. It would probably be a kindness to Seth; he's possessed by a Knight of Hell, and John has the means to end this. End it all.

"Dad," Sammy whispers.

John can't look at him, but then Dean lets out a weird, strangled groan. While John stays frozen, Bobby suddenly spins around and raises the shotgun to his shoulder. John tries to look behind him without taking his eyes away from Azazel. The sight of a knife against Dean's throat is what makes him take a staggered step back and turn so that he can see both Seth and his boys.

Megaera, still in Arendt's bleeding body, holds the scythe that's supposed to be in Seth's hand up beneath Dean's chin. Dean's teeth are bared like a wild animal caught in a trap, but he doesn't move. John holds the Colt up to Meg's face. She's not a larger target than Azazel, but John at least doesn't care if Arendt dies with Meg inside him.

"Ah ah ah," Meg taunts, eyes staring straight at John as the demon presses the curved blade further into Dean's throat.

Sammy whimpers, and John deliberately points the Colt to the ground again. His finger stays on the trigger, little good it'll do.

"Drop it." Meg-Arendt glares at him.

John's fingers stick to the grip of the Colt, damp. Meg drags the scythe up across Dean's throat, scraping the top layer of skin so that drops of blood swell and press out from Dean's skin.

John's fingers flex abruptly. The Colt drops.

"You, too, old man." Meg's eyes flick over to Bobby. "I don't fancy walking around with buckshot under my skin. That shit itches."

John hears the shotgun hit the ground softly. His boys are in the hands of demon, and his— Seth is still possessed.

"Are you finished playing?" Azazel hisses.

John glances at Azazel and sees Seth's face scowl back at his supposed daughter. Arendt's lips purse together, but Meg doesn't answer.

Azazel steps forward, and John thinks that he's about to smite his own daughter — if Megaera can be called a daughter, really — but then Azazel stops in front of John. For a moment, John stares at Seth's face, looking at the dark hair and the eyes. Something in the shape of the eyes and the nose is familiar like looking in a mirror is, if John ignores the ugly sulfur-colored eyes. Then, Azazel pivots in Seth's body, and kicks John straight in his stitched leg.

Pain rips through John's thigh, and he cries out before he manages to clench his teeth on his way to the ground. Sam screams for his dad while Meg shushes him like it's all just a nightmare.

Azazel bends low in front of John's vision, smiling wide. He gingerly picks up the Colt from the ground.

"You don't even know what this is, do you, John?" Azazel grins in John's face.

"I'd love to see you eat it and find out," John spits.

"Blow Seth's brains out the back of his head?" Azazel smiles wider. "Seen it already."

John swallows down his nausea quickly. He claps a hand on his thigh, feeling the blood soak through his pants as he digs his fingers into his leg.

"As pretty as that would be, I like him," Azazel says.

Azazel straightens, then, and walks toward the center of the cemetery, to the tall, standing stone. The cenotaph is the only thing in the graveyard taller than a regular gravestone, but it looks just as old as most of the others, chipped and cracked with pieces missing.

"What are you doing?" John says. He doesn't think Azazel's actually going to tell him; villain monologues don't happen like in Bond movies. But something bad is going to happen if the demon reaches that monument.

Azazel holds the Colt out in front of him like a strange gunslinger, the barrel pointed at a wide crack in the center of the cenotaph. Then, he thrusts the gun into the opening, and it gives, cracking the stone straight down the middle as if an invisible saw had split it cleanly. The crack grows wider, like a door opening, as white light streams out from the widening gap between the two halves of the stone.

A force like a strong wind blows through the cemetery, and John raises a hand to shield his eyes. The white light flickers and fades as the doorway opens further to reveal darkness, but moving darkness. John can just barely see shapes within it.

"What is that?" John says.

The wind snatches the words out of his mouth. There's no way anyone hears him.

"Hell," says Sammy. "He's opening Hell."

John inhales, smells sulfur, and holds his breath.


	5. Chapter 5

_Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo._ _Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem_ _et fortitudinem plebi Suae._ _Benedictus deus. Gloria patri. Amen._

* * *

The tall, aged stone pries itself open wider, and the living, moving darkness behind it starts pouring through the gateway to Hell into the nameless cemetery. Pieces of it break off and fly into the air. Some are shapeless, but John spots a few that look like people, deformed man-like shapes that make his stomach rise to his throat.

"Father . . ." Meg whispers worshipfully.

John twists on the ground and looks back at his boys. Meg's eyes are turned skyward, her expression rapturous.

Then, Sammy shifts and cradles the chain around his wrist in both hands so that it doesn't clatter against the fence or the ground. He stretches out and nudges Dean with his toe. Dean rolls his eyes to look at Sam without turning his head or pushing the scythe further into his neck. But something passes between them that John can't understand.

In the next moment, Sammy's foot kicks out and catches Meg in the back of her leg. Surprised, Meg jerks forward, and Dean uses the momentum to pitch Arendt's body over his head, rolling the demon forward and off of him.

Bobby falls to his knees and grabs the shotgun from the ground. He fires as soon as the gun is in his hands. Meg's chest gets the first barrel, and the second scatters her face and shoulder with pockmarks of blood. Flat on her back, Meg stares up as Bobby looms over her with the shotgun. Dean scoops up the scythe and stands at Meg's other side.

"Don't move, bitch," he growls at the demon.

John pushes himself to his elbows, one hand still on his leg, and the wind increases. John starts to hear screaming from the stone gateway, high and inhuman.

"Seth!"

John nearly loses what height he's gained when Sammy's voice joins the screaming. Glancing over his shoulder, John sees Sammy stretching forward, reaching as far as he can with one hand still chained to the fence.

"Seth, you have to stop him!" Sam yells above the volume of the wind. "You did it before. Please!"

The manacle around Sammy's wrist is digging into his skin with the force of him pulling away from the fence, toward where Azazel stands in front of the open gate. Azazel turns, but Seth's face doesn't change as the gusts from Hell catch at his hair and flings it in his face.

"Please." Sammy's sobbing now. "You're not a monster. We're not the monster. You said you didn't let him win before. You have to stop him or he'll win. He'll kill all of us."

Everyone is frozen, despite the wind and the smell of sulfur and blood in the air. Azazel blinks, and it's the first time John has seen him do that since Seth tried to beg for death. It shouldn't mean anything, even though John pushes himself up higher to watch Seth's face.

"Me and Dean," Sammy says. "Dad's here, too. Please."

Bobby starts reciting Latin. John hears the _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, _and Dean starts up, too. Between them, Megaera writhes on the ground. But Azazel just steps forward, his eyes on Sam.

"Who are you trying to save, Sammy?" he asks coldly. "You are mine, and _he's_ already given up." The demon waves one hand over the front of his body, where Seth's shirt is still dripping with blood.

The demon's coming closer, and John doesn't have a weapon. The Colt is in the gate, and Bobby's shotgun is busy with Meg.

"You can still have what you want, Sam," Azazel says. "You want a loving family. We'd love you. This one never got a chance to love anyone for very long." He trails a finger delicately across Seth's collarbone. "Not even his precious brother."

Oh, to _Hell_ with all of this.

"Get away from him, you son of a bitch." John pushes himself up to rest on his good knee with one hand bracing himself against the ground.

Azazel's face snaps over to him, but at least he's not looking at Sammy anymore.

"You lose." Azazel sneers. "Know when to quit, human."

John considers spitting in Azazel's face, when suddenly Azazel's face becomes Seth's face. His eyes flicker from yellow to brown and then back again, as if some angle had caught the light strangely. But Azazel hasn't moved. It's just Seth fighting back.

"Seth." John makes his voice firm, instilling it with all the belief he can muster. "You fight him. You're stronger than this bastard." Azazel's yellow eyes still stare at John, and John inhales. "You are a Winchester."

In the time it takes him to breathe in again, John thinks it hasn't worked. That nothing will break through to Seth now that Azazel has him back under his thumb.

Azazel reaches out with his hand spread, ready to throttle John's neck — and then he stops. John looks up to Azazel's face, and Seth is there instead.

Seth's jaw clenches hard with strain, and his hand shakes in front of John.

"Kah . . . Nah . . . Om Dar."

The words — _are_ they actual words? — punch their way out of Seth's mouth into the air between John and Seth. John wants to know what the hell's going on, but he doesn't dare take his eyes away from Seth. What if Azazel comes back again?

Seth's brows come down as he breathes heavily, still half-frozen with one hand reaching towards John.

"Kah Nah Om Dar!"

It's Enochian. It has to be Enochian, because that's the only language the words really sound like. John's eyes dart to Sammy, but Sammy's mouth is hanging open as he stares at Seth. The kid's not to be any help translating. Then, John sees Bobby almost lower his shotgun as his head comes up to stare as well. Meg's body — Arendt's body, now — is motionless and bleeding on the ground, and John turns his head back.

Seth stands straight up in front of John, his hands raised in front of him as he stares at them. And his hands are glowing.

No shit, Seth's hands look like something replaced his blood with pure light. It shines out from just underneath his skin, outlining his veins and tendons, and it's growing stronger with every second Seth stands there.

Seth looks up from his glowing hands to John. His chest heaves, but his eyes are his own.

"It's okay," he says. "I got 'im."

Turning his back on John, Seth strides to the split stone in the middle of the cemetery that's still spewing darkness, wind, and twisted forms. He reaches out and pulls the Colt out from its place in the keyhole of the gate and flings it to one side. It lands about three yards away from John. Then, Seth plants his hands on the open stone. The light streams from his fingers and cuts straight through the darkness as he takes a breath and heaves.

Leaning forward, Seth pushes with all his strength. Now his arms are starting to glow as well, like the light is slowly traveling up his limbs to his heart. Seth's starting to steam with the effort.

Then, John eyes widen because that's not steam rising up from Seth's arms. It's too dark. Like the black smoke that Wilson breathed out when he was possessed. Curling, writhing out of him like visible poison seeping out of his skin. As the glow spreads up Seth's arms, the black smoke seeps out of him, avoiding the light. Seth keeps pushing, and slowly the stone gate grinds together.

The wind is worse now, tearing at Seth like it's trying to batter him away from the gate.

"John, get down!" Bobby yells.

John looks over his shoulder and sees Bobby crouched on the ground with one hand in front of his face, shielding himself. Dean is bent over Sammy, still looking to Seth and the gate. John turns back to the gate and grits his teeth.

He has to use one hand and one knee to drag himself across the dry ground, but he makes slow progress toward Seth. He keeps one eye on the light as he goes; it's reached up to Seth's shoulders now. Whatever is happening is giving him the strength to close the gates again, but the darkness that is still seeping out of Seth's pores is now gathering in a kind of cloud just over his head.

John reaches the gun at the same time the light reaches Seth's chest. John flings himself forward and catches the Colt in bloody hands as his leg hits the ground with a stab of pain. He braces the Colt in both hands and rolls on his back, pointing the gun up at Seth. With a loud scraping of stone against stone, Seth slams the gate to Hell closed and hunches over himself. A hood of shadow, almost like the top half of a man, hovers over his shoulders with two long arms like anchors still attached to Seth's back.

"Seth!" John calls with the breath he has left.

Seth staggers backwards and turns his body. The shadow has a face — or something like a face. It looks more like a skull, tossing back and forth as if the demon is in pain. Its hands are buried inside Seth's chest, and the wind whistles in John's ear.

He aims, and pulls the trigger.

Seth gasps and holds his glowing hands over his stomach. From the ground, John watches the bullet pass through Seth's gut and straight into the center of the swirling black mass with a demon's face. The darkness lights up from within, outlining a thin, long ribcage that looks only half-human. The high-pitched scream makes John wince without closing his eyes.

Then, the last tendrils of the demon peel away from Seth's back, releasing him in a snap of tenterhooks. The Demon stops screaming abruptly, and the light blasts through the ribcage like an explosion without heat or sound. John closes his eyes against being blinded.

The wind stops.

John opens his eyes again. His breath sounds loud in his own ears.

"Dad?" Sammy calls, quiet and still frightened.

"Dad? Seth?"

John looks up again when Dean sounds more worried than Sam. Seth is still standing with his hands on his stomach, covering the bullet wound John gave him. He's not glowing anymore, and his eyes are the same as they've always been. Seth stares back at John, his mouth open and his eyes glazed over in shock.

Then, Seth's face softens into a strange smile, and his eyes slide closed. He opens his mouth with a small sound, but instead of words, blood and spit escape his lips and trickle down his chin. Seth's legs give out, and he collapses to the ground in front of John.

John drops the Colt as Bobby rushes forward and puts his own hands over Seth's stomach. Dean starts forward then stops, glancing back at where Sammy is still chained to the fence. John makes the decision for him.

"Dean, get your brother."

Dean doesn't even nod before he bolts back to Sammy's side. John puts a hand back on his leg and sits up enough to peel off his jacket and toss it to Bobby.

"We need a hospital," Bobby says without looking up.

John chokes on the few words that are in his throat and nods instead. The Demon is dead. The Demon that killed his wife and wanted his son is dead. His mission is done.

What if his mission just cost John Seth's life?

**o0O0o**

John walks down the hall of Memorial Hospital in Rawlins on his crutches. He can't feel his legs, although that might be because of the thick brace on his thigh to keep him from moving and tearing his stitches open. Again. The doctor's words bounce around in his head, but he's not processing them. He's not capable of it. He even has a folder of brochures and information in one hand that he hasn't looked at yet.

Right now he needs to find his family. He hasn't seen them since they put Seth and Dean in one ambulance and piled John and Sammy in the other one before the slammed the back doors shut on John. The only reason he's even on crutches instead of in a hospital bed is because he's responsible for the two boys that are somewhere in the pediatric unit in the hospital and John refuses to be stuck in a bed if they need him. Now, though, John isn't looking for Sam or Dean yet.

John comes to a "T" in the hallway and tries to look both ways while not taking up too much room with his crutches. He's almost starting to wish for a wheelchair just because it could be faster than his stupid limping.

"John!"

John looks down the hallway to his right and sees Bobby hurry up to him. The bandage over his temple looks clean and new, but other than that Bobby probably came out of the cemetery the cleanest of them all.

"Been looking for you," Bobby pants.

"Yeah?" Something in John's chest clenches. He can't take any more news today.

"The police are gonna want to talk to you," Bobby says. "I told them we were on a camping trip and Arendt kidnapped Sam. They bought it, but they have some questions about Seth."

Hell, _John_ has some questions about Seth, but he can't make his mind focus on the police that are going to be after him pretty soon. The edges of his brain feel fuzzy.

"I kept 'em away from the boys, though." Bobby nods decisively, and that makes John look up and focus more on the man.

"How'd you manage that?" he asks.

Bobby's mouth quirks under his beard.

"Said I was your brother-in-law," he says. "Figured Seth could probably pass as _your_ brother."

John's head drops on his chest. He can see the plain folder in his hands from the corner of his eye.

"He is."

For a second or two the hallway seems silent, quiet footsteps playing at patterns in John's ear.

"You sure?" Bobby says cautiously. "I know the Demon said—"

"He has a picture of me and Mary in his bedroom," John snaps and waves the folder in front of Bobby's face. "His blood matches mine."

"What?" Bobby's eyes widen.

"They did—" John can't remember the name of the test. "We're the same type. They wanted to see if I was … a viable donor."

_Bone marrow, elevated white blood cells, hemoptysis._

John runs the palm of his hand hard over his face.

"Can you . . . keep the police distracted?" he asks Bobby.

Bobby's face twists into a grumpy frown under his hat. How does he even still have that stupid thing?

"You wanna make a bust outa here, we're gonna need more than just me waving my hand for the cops."

"No." John shakes his head. "Not yet. Just … gimme a minute."

"Yeah," Bobby says softly and nods. He puts his hand on John's shoulder, just briefly, and then he leaves.

John takes a deep breath and finally reads the placards screwed to the wall. He limps down to the in-patient rooms, looking for the right room number. Then, he hears Sammy before he even gets to the open doorway.

"I figured it out," Sammy says boldly. His voice still shakes, though, like he's not used to being so brave. "I know … I know who you are."

John freezes and picks his crutches off the floor so that they don't make any noise. It means he has to lean on the wall as he shuffles and limps closer to the door, but he does it anyway.

"Yeah," Seth whispers so softly that John has to go through three different options of what Seth could have said.

"How did you— Why didn't you—"

Sammy sounds choked up by the end of it, and John braces himself to rush into the room. Except how did Sam ever figure out who Seth is? It's not as if John has been sharing his information. Although Azazel was pretty obvious about the Winchester blood.

John kind of wants to kill the demon again just to make himself feel better.

"Did you always know about …" Sammy finally starts, "about us? The blood?"

"No," says Seth. "Not 'til I was twenty-two."

John didn't actually expect that, but something loosens in his chest just the same. Pictures of Seth and Harry Winchester talking about the ones they left behind — half-thoughts of Seth inserting himself into the Winchester family strictly for the purpose of his hit list — they all disappear as the breath hisses from John's lungs.

"Azazel showed me," Seth says.

John remembers a yellow-eyed man hissing in his face with sulfur-tainted breath, and he stops shuffling forward.

"He did?"

There are tears in Sammy's voice, and John starts moving again. Forget being quiet, he's not letting Sammy cry over Azazel. The bastard has caused enough trouble in his family.

"'S'okay," comes Seth's voice, hoarse but intense. "He's dead. Really, actually dead."

John makes it to the doorway and sees Sammy hovering by the side of Seth's hospital bed. Seth looks pale but cleaner than John has seen him in days. The corner of the gauze over his heart is peeking out of the low collar of the hospital gown he wears. John doesn't know what the clear bag on the stand contains, but apparently it's not helping Seth stay awake. Even with his fierce reassurance to Sam, Seth's eyes are only half-open.

John rests his crutches against the wall inside Seth's room. The noise makes Sammy's head snap around to look at John, but Seth stays motionless on the bed. Sam's fingers brush over the clean white bandage that circles his wrist where the manacle made him bleed.

"Sam," John says. "Go check on your brother."

He doesn't really want Sammy here when John talks about the doctor's prognosis — because he still _has_ to talk about the doctor's prognosis. Sammy's already about two minutes away from calling Seth "Uncle Seth." The only way John knows Sammy is going to stay away and not eavesdrop is to assign him to watch over Dean.

"Yes, sir." For once, the phrase doesn't sound sarcastic coming from Sammy.

Sammy just shuffles away from the hospital bed. He does give Seth one last glance over his shoulder, but Sammy trudges his way to pass John towards the door. John lays one hand on Sammy's shoulder, and the kid stops.

John looks down at Sammy. He can pass the tight grip off as losing his balance, or needing a little support with his crutches leaning up against the wall. Sammy stares up at John, his eyes wide open.

"You're a good boy," John finally says.

Sammy's shoulder lifts under John's head ever so slightly. Just enough so that John can feel it, can see Sammy's chest rising up straight and proud. Patting Sammy's shoulder once, John lets Sammy go and ignores the burn at the back of his eyes. It'll pass.

Once Sammy's gone, John shuts the door and then limps gingerly to the single chair on one wall. He tugs it with his hand so that it's closer to Seth's bed. As he sits, he spots a trail of water just under Seth's closed eyes, but he ignores that, too.

"How you feeling?" he asks.

"Like I died," Seth says without opening his eyes. "Again."

_What?_ John's already on the verge of demanding answers, but then he looks at Seth's cheeks again. Azazel has already mentioned Hell and Lucifer, and John wants to know how that happened even though he doesn't know if he can handle knowing _how_ it happened.

One thing at a time. The blood thing is more immediate. John has plenty of time and resources at the Bunker to research Lucifer.

"The doctor said something's wrong with your blood," John says.

He really should try to soften this kind of blow, shouldn't he?

Seth hums something John really doesn't understand. His head sinks further into the hospital pillow like he doesn't have the strength or will to keep it up anymore.

"They're talking about your blood cells and doing some tests." John drops the folder of information on the foot of Seth's bed, but he doesn't open it. "They think you have leukemia."

Seth cracks his eyes open and turns his head to peer at John.

"Is'at what it looks like?" he slurs tiredly.

Seth knew about this. Of course Seth knew about this; he said that he'd been poisoned when John's boys asked him.

"What happened to you?" John asks before he remembers that he was going to leave that question for later.

"I passed the Trials," Seth answers easily. John has no idea what that means. "Obstacles Heaven set up for one man to go through. They purified me so I could shut the gates of Hell."

Yeah, with his magic, glowing arms.

"They're gonna purify you right into the ground."

"Yeah," Seth agrees, like he already knows that part, too.

John presses a palm to his mouth and breathes in slowly through his nose. He smells bleach. His hand drags over his face, and John looks up at Seth. The oxygen hasn't changed Seth's pale, tired face.

"We can fix this," John says.

He says it in the same, firm tone that means _this is what will happen because this is what I say_ that makes Sam and Dean obey. Seth just huffs out a dry laugh that turns into a wet cough. Pink spittle dribbles out of the corner of his mouth, and John jumps up quickly to grab a tissue to swipe away the blood so he doesn't have to see it.

"You always think you can fix things," Seth says.

"We can." It's annoying that Seth won't believe him like his boys will.

"No." Seth's head rises up off the pillow as he props himself on his elbows, his neck straining and his eyes frowning at John. "I've been hunting a long time. Sometimes you _can't_ fix things. Just end up making them worse."

John doesn't want to acknowledge that Seth might be right — in certain circumstances. But then Seth's arms give out, and he falls back onto the bed hard. John reaches out and puts a hand on Seth's shoulder, too late to catch him or break his fall. At least Seth doesn't start coughing again.

John sinks back down into the chair. They can argue this later, when Seth's not in danger of coughing up his lungs or passing out when he gets angry. Time to pick a different topic of conversation.

"You've hunted your whole life?" John asks.

"Nearly." Seth closes his eyes again. He's starting to look like a stick figure in the hospital bed.

"You always ... hunt with Dad?"

John doesn't breathe once his question is out there. It's the first time he's actually acknowledged their connection out loud.

"No. With my brother." Seth's slurring his words like he's already half-asleep.

John's chest swells, almost the exact opposite of the empty, cold feeling whenever Azazel popped up before. His eyes are fixed on Seth, but Seth's eyes stay closed, his breathing slow.

"What's that like?" John asks slowly.

Seth lets out a snort through his nose.

"Aggravating," he breathes. "Treats me like a kid most of the time. He's overprotective."

John would argue that Seth only got that from watching the way he treats Sam and Dean, but there's no way he's saying anything out loud with Seth's voice already this quiet.

"We keep keeping secrets from each other." Seth's head tosses slightly with a line in between his eyebrows. "It never works."

John nods. They need to stop doing that. John's going to help Seth with his hit list now that he knows about it, and Seth isn't going to go on any more suicidal missions to protect John and his boys. He opens his mouth to make some sort of promise, a plan for once they get back to the Bunker.

"Wouldn't have any other brother," Seth says on one last exhale.

John freezes. He glances down and sees his hand hovering above Seth's arm. He didn't plan to do that. But John lowers his hand anyway and lays his palm over Seth's arm just above the wrist. Seth's body relaxes an extra inch, and he sleeps.

John can wait to tell Seth the rest of it. About helping with the hit list and maybe finding a school in Smith County for the boys. Dean can stay with Sammy while John and Seth hunt, as long as Seth goes through all the security features of the Bunker. Maybe they'll even hang that photo of the Men of Letters somewhere. John will watch Seth's back. Big brothers are supposed to protect little brothers, aren't they? Dean always does with Sammy. John might be late. Seth will probably complain. But they can fix this.

This is how it starts.


End file.
